Remember Me
by Formerly JVM-SP150
Summary: Sharon and Randy are going out and Stan's on an adventure, leaving the two least popular Marsh family members alone together. Shelly struggles to deal with her over a century-year-old, Alzheimer's-afflicted grandfather who can barely remember her, much less himself - but perhaps there's more to it than that. (Genfic, no pairings.)


This fic was heavily inspired by the _Adventure Time_ episode, "_I Remember You_" and was written months ago... I decided to put it here for no particular reason. Maybe somebody'll like it? I don't know.

**"Remember Me"**

"All right, dad, well we just want to thank you for coming over to watch Shelly on such short notice." Randy Marsh said as he put on his brown jacket, preparing to leave the house. His wife stood next to him as she got on her nicest "scroat-cut" as it'd been affectionately dubbed, "Jimbo and Ned are off on a safari in Africa and Stanley's out with his friends in Puerto Rico on some adventure, so we were kinda stuck with you."

"Shelly can mostly look after herself at this age, but we thought she might be lonely with us gone for so many hours." Sharon explained.

"Ah, don't worry about it, lookin' after a little kid's easy as pie. All I have to do is prep the ol' record player and put on whatever doesn't sound like shit." Grampa Marvin Marsh explained, "I mean come on, I'm a hundred and four years old, I didn't fly spitfires seventy years ago to have my mental status called into question all the time."

"Dad, Shelly's not a little kid anymore, she's thirteen." Sharon said, still a bit worried as her motherly instinct began to kick in.

"...I knew that." Marvin piped in, lying through his teeth, "You two kids get going to your faggy Broadway musical and I'll look after the twins godammit." he said angrily. Sharon looked to Randy with concern,

Randy raised a hand, "Dad, you only have to watch one kid, Stan's-"

"Fuck off, Howard, I'm a hundred and four years old, I know what the hell I'm doing, now go see the Book o' whatever the hell it is and lemme do my job!" Marvin said, "...I almost crapped my pants there for a second."

Sharon began, "...Dad-"

"You have everything under control, so we'll just get out of your hair." Randy nodded, covering his wife's mouth as they quickly shuffled out of the house, closing the door behind them. Marvin scowled, shook his head at his family's disrespect for their elders, and turned on the television. Mostly a bunch of shit. More shit. Some shit shitting on more shit. A reality show about the Shitty Housewives of New Shit City. And finally a rerun of the Andy Griffith Show, that'll do. Huh. Everything looked kinda shitty here too, this time. Marvin shrugged it off and wheeled over to the fridge to get a whiskey, his favorite drink.

"Hi Grampa." Shelly greeted her grandfather as Marivn jumped and closed the door,

"Hey, what's the big frickin' idea sneaking up on me like that you little shit!?" Marvin sneered. Shelly, however, didn't back down a bit, never one to get too fearful in most situations,

"Can't keep your handsh off the whishkey, huh? What a shurprishe." she said sarcastically with a faked chuckle. Her parents both had alcoholic tendencies, as did her uncle and his heterosexual life partner, and she was well aware of Stan's own problems. It seemed like she was the only one in the immediate family who didn't drink. Turds.

Grampa Marvin Marsh sneered at his granddaughter, quite annoyed with his behavior, "Hey, missy, I'll have you know that I've earned the right to drink! I'm-"

"Yeah, yeah, one hundred and four yearsh old." Shelly rolled her eyes, "Shome thingsh never change." she said quietly, looking back to him, "Sho what exshactly are we doing?"

"What do you mean, what are we doing? You go back to your room and do whatever stupid girly shit you do and I'm going to watch some good old classic television." Grampa Marvin said matter-of-factly, clearly annoyed still. "What do you expect me to do, sit here and entertain you?"

"Well, Grampa, we could at leasht watcsh shomething we both like." Shelly suggested, "How about wreshtling?" she asked. Marvin sneered for a moment, then began to smile,

"Oh, that sounds like a fine idea to me." Marvin nodded, wheeling back over to the television and changing the channel, "You sure you aren't too young for this stuff, missy?" he asked.

"Grampa, I'm thirteen now." Shelly stressed, "I'm not a baby anymore."

"I know that, of course I know that!" Marvin said with annoyance. Shelly sighed and shook her head, "Uh, who are these fellas again?" he motioned to the wrestlers on the screen,

"You don't remember?" Jesus, had it really been so long since Shelly'd extensively talked to her grandfather? He really was losing his mind.

"Of course I remember... I-I'm just testing you!" Marvin demanded, "Now, which one's which? This one's Muhammad Ali, right?"

"Muhammad Ali'sh a bocksher, Grampa, that'sh John Shena and the Edgshe." Shelly told him, looking away, a bit exasperated with her grandfather's memory problems.

"I... oh, uh, good job, Shelly, you passed the test after all!" Marvin lied, "So, uh, what exactly's going on again? They're fightin' over some lady or something?"

Shelly pinched the bridge of her nose, "No grampa... it'sh wreshtling. They wreshle. That'sh why it'sh called wreshtling."

"Now, don't you get smart with me, young lady!" Marvin scolded angrily, "You're only a little girl, you're supposed to respect your elders! I'm a hundred and..." He put a hand to his mouth, "A hundred and... what was it? Five? Four? Maybe three?"

"Can't you remember anything, grandpa?" Shelly said, angrily, beginning to lose her patience, "Godammit, are you loshing your mind or ish it already losht?" she said, shaking her fists with rage, "You're a hundred and four yearsh old, Grampa, one hundred and four!"

"Shut up, Jessica. You're just a little girl, you have no idea the things a person has to go through! The things they see!" he said, "You don't know what it's like to get old!"

Shelly turned away, "I have no idea what it'sh like to get old? Ish that what you think you turd?" she said, "I may not be a hundred yearsh old, but I've sheen plenty of shit in my life. More shit than a lot of people do." she crossed her arms.

"You're a spoiled little brat is what you are." Marvin said. Shelly looked down,

"I'll be right back..." she sighed, leaving the room momentarily. Marvin crossed his arms. Stupid ungrateful grandchild. He resolved to watch the program when Shelly retuned with a small box,

Marvin turned off the television, "Whatcha got there now?" he asked.

Shelly sighed, shoving a photograph into his hands, "Dosh this jog your memory at all, huh?" The photograph was a slightly younger Grampa, with a little more hair, his dog Patches, and a younger Randy with longer hair giving a happy thumbs up. "That'sh your shon!"

"Oh, that's Jackson, right? Didn't he die in Vietnam or something?" Grampa raised an eyebrow, confused.

"No, Grampa, thish ish my dad, Randy, your shon, remember?" Shelly asked, "Come on..." she fished another photograph out of the box, handing him one of her little brother as a baby with a lollipop, his hat far too large for his tiyn head, "Shee? That'sh Shtan."

"Who the hell's Stan? I'd recognize that face anywhere, that's my grandson Billy." Marvin said, "Why are we looking at all these photographs anyway?"

"Do you remember thish one?" Shelly said, slightly peeved Stan was the only person he remembered so far. Stupid brother everyone loved... she passed Marvin a photograph of him and his wife Mathilda with their boys - Randy, Jimbo and Shane. Youngest Randy was doing bunny-ears, Shane was in a short dress and eldest Jimbo held his first rifle proudly. "Come on, Grampa, please..."

"Is that... ah, there's Jackson, what a great kid... and Howard making a fool out of Daniel, and... who the hell's that cheap whore behind them?"

"You're fucking kidding me! How don't you even remember your own wife?" Shelly asked angrily, "You can't remember the namesh of your own children, you can't recognishe your wife, you don't remember how old your grandkidsh are, you don't remember mosht of the crap you ushed to watch on televishion, you probably can't even name who the Preshident is right now!"

"Oh, well, that's an easy one... Ronald Reagan!" Marvin answered about thirty years or so too late. Marvin was looking through the box as he picked up another photograph - himself as a younger man, only in his mid-nineties, with a little baby girl with light brown hair and brilliant blue eyes, wearing pink pajamas and a gray shirt and smiling in his arms. He rubbed his forehad, "Huh... when was this one taken?"

"That'sh ush, grampa..." Shelly said with a sigh, looking down at the floor.

"That's impossible." Marvin tossed it aside, "Oh, hey, look over at this one." There was another picture of the younger Marvin with Shelly at the zoo in front of an exhibit full of Grevy's Zebras, one at the front eating grass, others running around in the back. Marvin supported her on his shoulder, "Wow, that looks like one hell of a horse race..." Shelly didn't look up, already feeling defeated.

"It washn't a horshe rashe, Grampa..." Shelly closed her eyes.

"Hey, looky here..." Marvin smiled, "Now, here's a good picture..." he looked down, seeing his younger self and Shelly at the carnival in front of a dunk tank, Shelly with cotton candy and Marvin smirking, with Mr. Mackey behind them in the dunk tank struggling to swim as both laugh, "Ahh, how things have changed..."

Shelly approached him, looking at the picture and sighing, "Do you remember now, Grampa? Can't you please just try to remember!?" she asked, tearing up.

"I used to be such a good shot, didn't I?" he shook his head, "Any idea who the kid is? Billy maybe?"

Shelly sneered, shook her fists, and roared at him, "What the hell hash happened to you, Grampa? You ushed to watsh me almosht every day when I wash a shutpid little kid, and we'd watsh movies and wreshtling and play gamesh and all shortsh of fun shit. When all of the other adultsh were a bunch of shtupid turdsh too focushed on the shtupid new baby mom was about to have to even remember me, you were the one who alwaysh remembered me! You were the one who went out of their way for me!" Shelly said, a mixture of anger and grief in her eyes, tears starting to roll down her cheeks, "It'sh like I'm watching you die before my eyshe!" She stopped and turned away as Marvin dropped the photograph, looking for more. Shelly stepped forward and picked it up, reading...

"Shelly, I don't know what to do anymore. I'm almost a hundred years old now and I can feel my mind slipping away. It's a weird world out there, and God knows the only thing that keeps me alive anymore is all the whiskey in the world... I'm losing myself, Shelly. I feel it. I'm forgetting things I never used to forget. Things are getting harder and harder every day. I still get up to make Patches food, or to let her out at night... and I think my legs are starting to go... the arthritis is killing me and the doctor says I might not be able to walk much further than short distances in a year... just please Shelly, I'll always try to be there for you, but I know a time's going to come when I'm going to be a different person... I want you to know that after I forget, if I say or do anything to hurt you, or Stanley, or your parents just... forgive me." Tears blotted the back of the photograph as Shelly read it to herself...

xXx

"...love, your Grampa." A ninety-nine year-old Marvin Marsh finished writing on the back of the photograph and quietly put it in a small box on a desk in the Marsh family living room. He took off his reading glasses and got up slowly, slapping his back and grabbing his cane as he forced himself to move his stiff legs. He slowly approached a playpen, smiling down at the little toddler inside it - a small girl with brilliant blue eyes and barely a light brown hair, wearing pink pajamas and a gray shirt,

"Grampa, grampa!" she smiled up at him. Marvin looked down for a minute - she was such a sweet little girl, God knew what the world would do to her. They'd eat her alive, take her innocence, and she'd be just like him and her father, seeing nothing but shit until she could do nothing but take her anger out on the rest of the world and barely keep it in check with generous amounts of alcohol. God knew her parents wouldn't be around, doting on the new baby instead, and God knew he couldn't save her. No. In just a few years, his own mind'd be lost to the ages as his dementia grew worse, and his legs gave way. He wished he could just die and spare his family the pain of seeing him slip away before their eyes, not subject them to caring for him in such a deteriorated state. He just looked down - he had to put on a happy face. Not for himself, knowing his grim fate - but for her. So she could go on just a little longer believing in happiness, fairy tales and princesses. "What are we gonna do today, grampa?"

"Whatever you'd like to do, Shelly." he told her with a smile. Just a little longer...

**The End**


End file.
